The Returning 3: Fight and Shadow
by scribblemyname
Summary: The Cure is failing, Pyro's back at the mansion, Remy's past is catching up to him, and a telepathic war is about to change them all forever. Romy/Kyro/LoRo
1. Bonds of Blood

**BOOK ONE : : FURY**

* * *

_Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,__  
__Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd__.  
~ William Congrave, The Mourning Bride ~_

* * *

**Chapter One : : Bonds of Blood**

* * *

The regal headmistress of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, dropped gracefully—if wearily—into the plush chair behind her desk. She always felt a little awkward in this chair, as if she was trying to fill the seat of a man far greater than she was.

Well, she was.

Storm sighed deeply, missing the Professor yet again, wishing he could be alive in her place. She turned in her chair to look out the window on the lavish grounds of the mansion, at the gates barring the outside world entry. A dream too large to accomplish and words to harsh to give.

Two of her girls were outside tonight. Rogue had left her in a walking haze. Kitty had been hugging herself too tightly, trying to act as if what Storm had just told her didn't matter. The air was warm and gentle outside. Storm could do little to soften the blows, but she could at least make it easier for them to find the space that they needed.

"They'll be fine, 'Ro," Logan's rough, masculine growl cut through her reflection.

"I suppose," she replied softly.

Logan grunted, disbelieving. He thought her too soft, perhaps. But he had taken an especial protectiveness about three of her girls and those were two of them. He trained them, pushed them more than anyone else. Of course, to him they would be fine. To him, they could take anything or he'd just have to train them some more.

"Logan." Storm finally turned back to look at him in the growing shadows of the evening's darkness.

He shifted in those shadows.

"I need to be alone for a little while." She smiled at him gently as she set about closing the blinds and turning on the lamp.

He sighed himself and gave her one last long look.

"Go on," she prodded.

Logan rose from the chair and closed the door quietly behind him, a last rough _'night_ lingering behind.

Storm waited a few more minutes until she was certain he was gone, really gone, not listening behind himself, probably already halfway to the student dorms to drag any straggling boyfriends away from the girls. She couldn't muster a smile at the thought though. Instead, she stared ahead, frown creasing her brow.

Finally, _finally_, she picked up the phone and dialed.

* * *

"Merde." Remy LeBeau swore methodically and vehemently in French at the thin letter he held in his gloved hand. In the other hand, a slim cell phone dangled, open, from his fingers.

"Gambit? Are you still there?" The former thief's voice sounded mildly panicked.

He lifted the phone back to his ear. "Stormy. I have to take care of this."

"Take care of what? You promised!"

He clenched his jaw and answered tightly. "The start of the term. No sooner. I didn't promise you more, chère."

Storm sighed, intense exhaustion blowing out with the sound. "Where are you?"

Remy smiled a grim smile beneath his devil eyes. "Can't tell you that, Stormy. Start of the term. I'll see you." He snapped the phone shut before she could respond and fingered the letter from the Guild.

Finally, he dropped a playing card on the pillow next to the nameless woman who'd shared his bed last night (and paid for it) and left silently as a thief.

* * *

Marie stumbled, gasping, into the cold night air behind the mansion. Her shoulders shook and her eyes burned, but she could not cry. Shock. She was in shock.

"_I felt you should be the first to know," Storm had said kindly._

"_Know what?" Cold dread knotted in Marie's stomach._

"_The Cure…" Storm hesitated. "We've received word that the Cure is not permanent."_

_Marie's world ended right there. _Marie_ ended there! For without the Cure, her skin turned rogue and all that was normal and right in her world crashed and burned on the ground._

Marie struggled to catch her breath, but managed to reach the cold stone bench screened by tall shrubs and small trees. Someplace private, safe. So why didn't she feel safe anymore?

Her bare hands rested in her lap. She studied them. The skin was so normal looking, white and soft from heavy use of lotion and sunscreen. Her arms were bare. Since she took the Cure, she'd left gloves and scarves and sweaters behind, dressed in the least clothing she could get away with for the weather.

Her life had changed so drastically when her mutation appeared; a little less so when it disappeared. Bobby hadn't really taken much advantage of it. Some, but not enough. He was hurting. She understood that. He had just fought and nearly killed his one-time best friend. Many of them mourned John after Pyro had destroyed him.

But after he was over it (or claimed he was), he still didn't have much time for her. Still made time for Kitty. Still…

And now, it would be all over again, just worse.

"_How long do I have?" Marie asked, trying to hold back tears._

_Storm maintained her composure, but her eyes were soft as she replied, "A few months. Maybe less."_

_And Marie nodded, rose, and managed to keep her feet going out of the office. She wouldn't cry. She'd wait until she got outside. She would not cry._

She had _maybe_ a few months, and the odds were good that she wouldn't even lose her virginity in that time. Especially once everyone knew. And they would know soon.

She cried then. Tears and hair mingled in her eyes, blending light and shadow in the darkness.

* * *

Pyro scowled at his attorney. He never bothered to ask who paid her or why he had one. He had always assumed it was either Professor X or Magneto trying to get him out. He had accepted her cold, controlling presence as a nice, but ineffectual nod to diversity and his mutant status. Even a lowlife scum like him had the right to an attorney.

He ignored her.

But now, his attorney had done the unheard of. The guards at his sorry excuse for a high-security "humane" facility—a.k.a. _prison_—had roused him off of his lumpy cot at an unholy hour of the night, cuffed and chivied him on the way to the visiting room—never mind visitation and _sleeping _hours, for crying out loud—and sat him down in front of his blonde attorney with her cold, hard smile and dismissiveness to such trivial things as prison guards.

She had succeeded. Gotten him probation. Complete with collar, Cure, and classes.

Pyro was pissed.

"The Cure? You sold me to be _cured!_" He was up and out of his seat, angry glare at this woman in her white suit, who somehow managed to make business attire look naughty. "Get out of here!"

Emma Frost merely raised a condescending eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. "Sit down, Pyro. Unless you want those men to tazer you."

His eyes narrowed.

She tapped one set of manicured nails against the counter between them. "You were once a student at Xavier's. It can't be that bad."

He sat down. "There is nothing worse than Xavier's," he muttered darkly. A prisoner among his enemies is all he would be. He was under no illusions.

Frost laughed. "Nothing except staying behind bars without a lighter." Her mouth curved in a wicked smile. "Permanently."

Pyro snarled. "Like the Cure isn't worse."

Frost snapped back at him. "Oh for goodness' sake, Pyro, there are worse things than taking a temporary mutation suppressant to get out of this joint."

That got silence, a strange look, and his complete attention.

She raised that eyebrow again, hand stilled, a clear invitation for him to try again.

He drew in a long breath. "Temporary?"

"A few months." She shrugged. "Six to eight at the level they'll hit you with. Enough to keep you behaved until you're used to probation." She aimed an icy glare at him. "You _will_ behave."

"Yes," he replied automatically. "Perfect, civilized behavior. What the lady wants, the lady gets." An evil smirk curled his lips.

* * *

Kitty shivered in the darkness, wedged between their two trees. John's tree braced her back, and her feet pressed against her own. The ground was hard beneath her, but she neither noticed nor cared.

John was coming back.

"_I didn't want you to be surprised, so I'll be telling the rest of the team tomorrow," Storm said. She was staring out of the window, her white hair blowing a little in the slight breeze. "You remember that a number of the Brotherhood have been apprehended."_

_Kitty nodded, even though Storm couldn't see her, and wondered where this was going._

"_Pyro was among them."_

_She sucked in her breath._

_Storm turned, eyeing her carefully, waiting for her to exhale. Finally, she sighed. "He'll serve his somewhat lengthy probation here."_

How did Storm know? How did she know what that news would do to her? She felt like a semi had slammed her in the gut. And _now_, after the mess with Rogue and Bobby, after his leaving had changed everything between all of them. At one time, they had all been best friends. All it took was John's leaving to shatter and destroy them all.

_Almost two years ago, Kitty had sat curled up in a little ball in her favorite tree on many afternoons. She'd read or snack or just find pictures in the clouds. But on this day, she'd been sprawled at the foot of the tree, crying her eyes out, in the middle of the night._

_She had phased. She could barely feel the ground or even the tree. Just a shadow in the darkness._

_Suddenly, warmth licked up her legs and she drew herself up and melted halfway into the tree._

_"Sprite?" St. John Allerdyce stared at her through the ball of flame in his hands. He looked terrible, like he had woken from a bad dream. His dirty blonde hair went every which way and his eyes narrowed at her like he couldn't believe it was her._

_Not that she looked any better._

_Crying in the mud at the bottom of her tree, wearing only her pajamas, had not been a good idea._

_She rubbed her eyes, became solid. "Kitty Pryde."_

_"Oh." He sat down next to her._

_She started crying again._

_"What…um…" John rubbed the back of his neck before tentatively wrapping one arm around her and patting her shoulder in some gesture that belonged in a torture chamber, not a comfort session. "Don't cry," he pleaded._

_She hiccupped and tried to stop. "I—" and she was off again._

_"What's wrong?" The heat drew up to her face._

_She turned away._

_"Kitten?"_

_"My parents," she finally choked out._

_He nodded. "Right."_

_And that was the beginning of their trees._

She wanted to _hate_ him. She _did_ hate him. But…

Love and hate rode a very fine line.

Her face was wet with silent rivers coursing unchecked and uncheckable from her eyes. She stared up at the distant stars, imagining his face up there, when the sounds of what should have been her suddenly made themselves noticed.

Kitty sat up, listened. Someone was crying. Over there. On the stone bench.

_Seemed like it was always tears._

* * *

Riding his motorcycle at insane speeds in the middle of the night down a nearly empty highway was the sort of thing Remy did far too often, but he hadn't had anyone to stop him for years. Six years since he walked away from New Orleans, since he'd spilt blood and owed the debt to the one woman he would have given anything for.

How things change.

Remy cursed to himself in fluent French, preferring the Cajun forms he'd grown up with. The cursing, the cold wind, the speed all took his reflexes and focus away from the memories, away from Stormy—he owed that girl in blood, and from Belladonna—blood again, and from Sarah—more blood.

* * *

Marrow lifted her bony head from the hard floor beneath her. They had left her in a small room, dim, with a single bed, a barred window, and a fairly empty chest of drawers. The door was locked. It took her only a short time to case it.

She crawled out from under the bed, sat up leaning against it, and pulled a long, sharp bone out of her wrist to settle against her knee in case she needed it.

Voices fluttered down the hallway and through her door. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on the sound. It was the woman again. The sounds became stationary a little ways down. A man's voice. The father's.

Marrow's lip curled. She licked it and slid the bone closer beneath her thigh.

They were drawing nearer again. A key slid into the lock. Tumblers sliding. A click. The handle spun beneath an impatient hand.

The woman came in first, carrying a small candle with her to brighten the weak glow of the fixtures. So archaic but perhaps less tempting to a desperate prisoner than a lamp. The man followed close behind her, dark red cape swirling about him. They were both tall, dangerous people, golden-haired with formfitting body armor encasing their skins.

"You've returned," Marrow spat. She kept her weapon out of view.

The woman lifted an eyebrow, cold blue eyes easily sliding over Marrow's thigh. "He is coming."

Marrow slitted her eyes in distrust. "If you hurt him, I _swear—_"

"Nonsense, child," she said coldly. "We need him alive now to get information from you, non?" She flashed a smile, all white, deadly teeth. "That was the deal, n'est ce pas?"

The father nodded solemnly, though his stiffness suggested he would rather the deal had not been made.

"I only talk to him," Marrow bit out.

The woman nodded as solemn as her father before her. "Of course." She set the candle on the chest of drawers. "We'll wait together, shall we?"

Of course, Marrow had no room to refuse.

* * *

"Rogue?" a tentative voice called out of the darkness.

Marie straightened, pulled her arms in close, forgetting that wasn't necessary yet. "Who's there?"

She watched as a human form pulled out of the shadows, barely there, just a whisper of color that solidified into ever brighter detail.

"_Kitty?" _

Of all the people on all the nights, it had to be _Kitty Pryde_ that caught her crying. But as the moonlight caught on Kitty's face, she realized that Kitty had been crying too.

Kitty gulped, working her own uncovered fingers together. In nervousness? Fear? "Rogue, I'm…" The words hesitated at first, then stumbled out of her in their hurry to be said. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Marie stared at the girl who had once been her friend. Kitty's shoulders were shaking. Tears continued to fall, and fall, and fall.

"You were always stronger than me," Kitty went on. "I kept telling myself that. Bobby wouldn't leave you. You'd be okay. And I…I screwed it all up. I always screw—"

"I'm not stronger," Marie shouted suddenly. "I'm scared!"

Kitty and Marie stared at each other for a long moment.

Kitty whispered. "I know."

Another moment passed.

Marie took a deep breath and demanded, "Why? You were my best friend. Why did you _do_ that?"

She was surprised at herself, at how much pain one question could contain.

Kitty sat down on the ground ungracefully, her face mournful. "Because he was the closest I could get to John."

Marie's mouth fell open. That she had never expected. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps it should have occurred to her _where_ Bobby went when he was trying to do the same thing: save a man who had left them and they didn't yet know had fallen so much. Or at least save the memories.

She tightened her fingers into a fist. Memories. She knew a lot about those. More than anyone else. She reached out and touched Kitty's shoulder.

"Would you do it again?"

Kitty closed her swollen eyes. "No." She gasped and shuddered. "Never."

Surprisingly, that was enough for her to forgive Kitty. She doubted anything would be quite enough for her to forgive Bobby.

She let go, her hands falling back to her lap. "The Cure's failing." She brought the words out with a tremendous effort, but they fell flat on the air between them.

Kitty sucked in her breath. Hard.

Marie looked up, managed a tiny smile. "I'm not sure I would have wanted it with Bobby anyway."

Kitty started crying again. Somehow they ended up tangled in a fierce girl-hug, the kind after a breakup or a birth or a funeral. Marie felt odd and tingly by moments and realized they were phasing in and out of this world, this unreal situation. But how she had missed Kitty!

Finally, they pulled away and Marie stared at her…friend? "Why are you out here?"

"John." Kitty stared at her own hands. "He's…" She looked around, at the bushes, the trees, the mansion windows. A huge breath blew out through her mouth. "He's coming back."

That one threw her. Marie caught her breath. "For real?"

Kitty nodded. She flickered out and in again.

"I see why he called you Shadowcat."

Kitty blinked up at Marie. "You do?"

Marie realized then that Kitty had no idea how invisible she made herself, melding in and out of shadow in the night. But no one else did either. They never saw her do this at night.

"Yes," Marie replied simply.

Kitty stared at her for a long moment, then worked her lip, eyes slowing taking on a flash of anger. Finally, she nailed Marie with her sharp gaze. "I've got news for you," she said as sharply. "I see why you're called Rogue and it's because you're a fighter. You _are_ strong. You never needed anyone else to deal with who you are and you don't now."

Marie's mouth fell open again. She shut it abruptly.

Kitty stood before her with a fierce expression and balled fists and for once, Marie knew that she would not be able to brush her off. So she didn't. She tried to understand just how she was supposed to fight the return of a mutation that had always been a curse and never a gift.

"I don't know how."

"Well, find out," Kitty ground out. "Be Rogue. Be the girl that Bobby fell in love with, that Logan fought for, that _was my friend."_

Marie drew up herself at that. "Like I'm not!"

"No," came the quiet reply. "You're not. You're being Marie."

Bare arms. Bare hands. If Marie was the price for that, Rogue could stay away forever. Marie crossed her arms. "So?"

"So humans become mutants by surprise. They don't learn control from nothing." Kitty brushed back her hair, clearing having slipped into her analytical role. "But mutants fight the cure. They have _some_ sort of control."

"Fight the _Cure_?" Marie huffed in exasperation. "That's the last thing I want to do. I want to hold onto it, as long as I can!"

The two girls stared at each other.

"Maybe we should just drop it." Marie scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off.

Kitty stared at her. Her teeth caught her lower lip and worried at it. "Rogue?"

"_Shadowcat_," Marie retorted.

"Forgive me?" A small hopeful smile crossed her face.

Marie studied her. She couldn't detect even the faintest hint of insincerity and she sighed. "Yes."

Kitty's smile blossomed then and she caught Marie in another hug.

They both held on tight.

* * *

She was waiting for him. Why couldn't she just give him up, let him go?

Cold blue eyes met his. _I will always wait for you,_ those eyes said.

Remy left his motorcycle in his frère's watch. Thieves eyed Assassins warily across the line. Remy walked forward three paces until he stood at the very front of the row of Thieves.

"Bonjour, Bella." He stared into the Assassin's eyes as she studied him thoughtfully.

But she was a princess, given to the formal rites of Guilds. She inclined her head and murmured reply, "Bonjour."

Black darkness pooled between them. Only the glow of the Boudreaux mansion's outdoor lights illuminated the night.

"I have waited for you," she said softly. There was much more in those words than anything contained by this here, this now.

Remy did not reply.

Belladonna was in her formal regalia: flowing red cape with Guild emblem stitched across it, body armor fitted to her like a second skin, the golden pin of the belladonna in her hair. And under it all, a small gold chain clinging to her neck and disappearing beneath.

He knew what hung on the end of that chain.

Marius Boudreaux, Patriarch of Assassins and Belladonna's father, stepped forward, a moving shadow. "We fulfill our agreement."

* * *

Marrow whispered fiercely to herself in the dim light where she sat alone once more, "Only tell him. Only him."


	2. Balance of Power

**BOOK ONE : : FURY**

* * *

_Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,__  
__Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd__.  
~ William Congrave, The Mourning Bride ~_

* * *

**Chapter Two : : Balance of Power**

* * *

They stayed up too late, talking and retreading paths that had not been crossed for far too long. Marie lay back on the bed, hair and fingers trailing off the edge. Kitty curled up in Marie's desk chair, occasionally dropping down a foot to send it spinning in a dizzying circle and come back giggling to their conversation. They talked about everything: grades, friends, books, shopping scores, family. There was so much they didn't know about each other anymore, and it seemed almost odd to Marie that they had really let their friendship die for so long. Though it probably shouldn't have surprised her.

Finally, she sighed and pulled her hand back onto the bed. "Do you miss him?" she asked.

In the space of a heartbeat, the room fell silent and the laughter faded from Kitty's eyes. She looked thoughtful, almost as if she was analyzing a computer program instead of her own feelings.

There was no need to specify just who Marie was talking about.

Finally, Kitty answered, "I miss _John_."

The distinction was clear and Marie nodded, not terribly surprised. She missed John too, his sarcasm, his wry sense of humor, his mean game of foosball, his friendship with all of them.

She did not miss Pyro.

"Do you think he's changed?" Marie propped herself up on her side and looked at Kitty.

Kitty jerked her head sharply to the right and sent herself spinning again. "I think he's Pyro."

Pyro. He'd sold out, moved on, called himself a 'god among insects,' become their worst enemy. He'd tried to kill them at Alcatraz. How could anyone blame them for trying to forget that their one-time friend was now their bitterest foe?

Marie sighed and dropped onto her back once more. "Do you think a name really matters all that much?"

"'What's in a name?'" Kitty quoted dramatically, sitting up ramrod straight. "'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

Both girls giggled.

Kitty clambered down off her chair and flopped onto the bed beside Marie. "I meant it, you know."

"I know." Marie stared at the ceiling. "It's just..."

Kitty eyed her inquisitively.

Pensive silence stretched. Finally, Marie sat up and rolled over onto her side to face her friend. "I think I'm okay with being Rogue," she said at last.

Kitty's eyes widened, but she nodded supportively.

Marie—_Rogue_—fell back onto the bed again and gave one curt nod to herself. "So, Shadowcat," she said abruptly. "Tell me what you think you know about being Cured."

Kitty huffed.

"Go on," Rogue cut off any potential response. "We haven't got all night."

But of course, they did.

"I don't _think_ I know," Kitty said, huffing again, then elbowing Rogue in the ribs. "I actually _do_ know something about it."

"Oh?" Rogue drawled, raising one eyebrow.

"_Yes_. Ever since Jimmy came, Hank has let me help out in the lab a little." Kitty rolled over onto her back and started gesturing animatedly at the ceiling. "Mostly I'm just a gopher, but Hank's asked me to look over some stuff for him, write up results, and the way that the Cure interacts with the body is just fascinating."

Rogue blinked as Kitty worked up a full head of steam.

"I mean, do you, like, have any idea just what the serum actually _means_ about how mutation is transferred? Of course, Jimmy's genome is already designed to affect other DNA, but at the same time, it means that injecting a serum created from Logan's blood is just as likely to pass along healing factor as the Cure was to pass along suppression. The difference with Jimmy is that it had to be modified in such a way that it would suppress the carrier's mutation while leaving mutants' in the surrounding areas alone. You oughta see the write up I'm working on for my science thesis. I've been going over just _how_ Jimmy's mutation is able to affect others without actually making skin to skin contact." Kitty grinned over at Rogue. "It's _so_ fascinating. And—"

Rogue clamped a hand over Kitty's mouth.

Kitty glared at her.

"Let me be more specific, sugar," Rogue said. "How do you think I can get control?"

* * *

Footsteps echoed dimly on stone. Marrow looked up, blue eyes brightening on the open door. Boots, swirling cloaks, the familiar flapping of a brown trench coat.

"Remy..."

She caught the tilted head, the shaded expression. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, but Marrow didn't care. She dropped the sharp-edged bone carelessly on the floor and scrambled toward him.

He came.

* * *

Cold morning light glinted through the blinds. Rogue rolled over with a groan. Shadowcat was zonked out at the foot of the bed, the blanket pulled from under Rogue and over her. The sharp buzzing of an alarm clock clued Rogue in to what had woken her.

She groaned again and hit the snooze button with the flat of her hand, face dropping into her pillow. "I'm _not_ getting up," she muttered in protest against the universe. What girl in her right mind would anyway after staying up until three o'clock in the morning?

Predictably, Shadowcat did not respond. The girl had her own room for the specific reason that it took thunder or an enemy attack to wake her, and any poor person that actually shared with her either served as an alarm clock or had to endure the ridiculously loud one that Scott had bought just for Kitty.

Of course, there was always the adamantium alarm clock that was currently banging on Rogue's door.

"Go away!" she shouted. She huddled the covers over her ears as much as she could with Shadowcat pinning them down.

"Kitty! Marie! Up!" Logan shouted back through the door.

Rogue sat up. "This is _my_ room!"

"And I can smell her in there. Up!" He banged a few more times to emphasize. "Don't make me come in there."

"It's a Sunday!"

"Will you all shut up?" Shadowcat muttered in her sleep.

Rogue glared at her, then threw the glare back to her door. "Go away! I'm sleeping in." She huffed and fell back into her covers.

Logan groaned from the other side of the door, then said with exaggerated patience. "Did you forget Storm called a meeting?"

Rogue froze. That. She had forgotten in her sleepiness and the fun of having stayed up all night that there was a _reason_ for staying up all night, renewing ties, crying her heart out over what could never be. She sat up, suddenly chilled, and rubbed her bare arms. "Give that back!" she snapped and unburied the blanket from under Shadowcat, heartlessly watching the smaller girl go flying off the bed with a muffled gasp and a whump.

"Gee, thanks, Rogue. Such a good friend," the sheets muttered sarcastically.

"Marie..." Logan was clearly running short on patience.

She threw a book at the door. "I'm up!"

* * *

The team had gathered in the big conference room. Everyone settled into their chairs, trying to ignore the empty spaces in the senior staff. Nobody liked to think about everything that had happened last year with Jean and Scott and Professor Xavier.

Storm glanced over her remaining people and the junior staff that had joined them.

It seemed impossible to inspire the kind of confidence they had or to provide the needed stability following their deaths, but at times like this, when all the staff gathered together, it was gratifying to see the strength and surety among their ranks. Only Bobby seemed a little agitated at Marie's inclusion. Storm had offered her a position, and Marie had accepted. Storm winced. She supposed everyone would know why in a minute.

"Let's start at the top," she said firmly, drawing everyone's attention. "Classes."

Logan growled softly. "I am not teaching history."

"That's fine." Storm smiled, remembering their long, drawn battle. "I have offered the position to Rogue, seeing as you objected rather strongly earlier."

Logan sent a surprised glance at his favorite student. Marie was silent, running one finger along the edge of the table and staring solemnly at it. He seemed puzzled for a moment, but then nodded in grudging acceptance.

They ran down classes and adjusted schedules. Several teachers were shifting out or taking on new responsibilities for the incoming swell of students.

"I'm in negotiations for a new teacher who will be useful to the team as well." Storm caught the flicker of interest from Bobby. He was growing into an able field leader, and any additions to the X-Men team was sure to catch his attention. "His name is Remy Lebeau. We should see him by the start of the term." She left out that he was actually supposed to have been here already and skipped out on her to "take care of" something.

Another glance around. Nods of acknowledgment. Thankfully, no one knew who he was—or his profession, or she'd be locking horns all morning.

A brief sigh. Move on. Line up the substitutes for when team members were out.

Finally, Storm came to her first bombshell in the form of a certain pyrokinetic's detention facility. It exploded.

"You can't bring him here!" Bobby shouted. "He'd probably try to burn us all down. He's a traitor!"

Storm tapped her fingers on her arm. "You should probably stop trying to tell me what I can and cannot do, Iceman."

Logan's claws slid out of one hand with an ominous sound, metal sliding against bone.

Storm glanced at Logan in tacit acknowledgment and gratitude. She was getting really tired of people questioning her in ways they had never questioned the Professor, field leader or not.

"The case is closed," she stated firmly into the grim faces of her team. "Pyro will serve his probation here."

Bobby glanced guiltily at Kitty. She did not look at him. Like Marie, she was staring at something on the edge of the table.

Hank Mccoy though smiled. "Perhaps this will be good for everyone."

"Yes," Storm agreed and promptly moved on before Hank could go into any extended socialization and psychological health theories. "He will have his probation officer with him, Emma Frost."

Kitty snapped her head up at that. "Emma _Frost?"_

"Yes." Storm agreed again. She eyed Kitty warily. She really didn't want any more explosions regarding Pyro or anyone else this morning when she still hadn't come to her most difficult points. "Any objections can be brought up later in private."

"Wait a second here." This time it was Logan.

Storm groaned inwardly. He was supposed to be her ally. "Yes, Logan?" She managed not to snap.

"If the Kitty Cat"—Kitty bristled at that—"knows something that could endanger the team, shouldn't we all know?"

With a sigh, Storm waved at Kitty to continue. She couldn't refute his logic, much as she wanted to get through and done with this part of the meeting.

Kitty looked extremely uncomfortable. "She tried to recruit me into this awful group of mutants that controlled the world or something."

"His _probation_ officer?" Bobby looked livid.

Storm raised a hand to forestall his objections. "I will personally go over it with Kitty and verify what we need to know. On to the next topic," she said forcefully. When Pyro had been with them, he had been known as their troublesome hothead. Now, Bobby seemed to be taking on the role, and Storm made a note to self to address _that_ with him later in private as well.

Bobby leaned back, looking anything but happy.

Finally, with a deep sigh, she came to the part she knew she—and Marie—had been dreading.

"The Cure."

* * *

"What?" Emma Frost snapped harshly into the thin, white phone. She had specifically left instructions with any parties holding the number not to call today. She was busy.

But the voice on the other end was enough to quell even her. "I assume you've finished your first task," a clipped, British accent said coolly.

Emma jerked her head at her chauffer. He went ahead and opened the door, and she slid inside.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon," Emma replied with equal chill. No one could be colder than a Frost.

A moment's hesitation. A hint of a frown entered the woman's response. "You should have. It has been three weeks as you requested. Is stage one complete?"

"Almost." Emma leaned back against the white leather in her limousine. "Pick up times are strict at federal penitentiaries."

Another pause, clear disapproval. "Very well." With a click, the line went dead.

Emma sighed and snapped the phone shut before rummaging in a small white handpurse for some Excedrin. "Driver, stop by my house. I need to change."

"Yes, Ms. Frost."

Slipping between skins was a necessary skill for her. From wealthy socialite returning from a business lunch to criminal defense lawyer picking up her indefensible charge, and then finally to hard-nosed probation officer determined to keep said charge in line, her many faces were going to get quite a workout today. She hummed a little to herself and dropped the cell phone back into the purse.

* * *

No one could look at her afterwards. That was the hard part. Being a freak among freaks.

Rogue brushed her white hair back from her face and tried to ignore the ones ignoring her as she moved through the hallway. Her arm tingled. Then a solid hand grasped her elbow. Shadowcat.

"Is it just me, or is this really, really weird?" asked the southern girl.

Shadowcat grimaced. "Weird. Definitely weird."

"Hey, wait up!"

They paused and waited for Bobby to catch up. He came to a stop in front of them and swung his head back and forth between the two, as if wondering what strange dynamic had changed that he faced them together.

"Yes?" Rogue asked impatiently.

"Are you okay?" Real concern flashed in his eyes.

She shrugged. "I'll live."

"Yeah." He took them in again. Both standing there. In front of him. Shadowcat waiting patiently for him to get done.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Was there something else?"

"What? No." He shook his head, backing up. "Nothing."

She nodded. Why had she expected more? He wasn't about to realize that his time with her touchability was limited. That he should take it now.

She wondered which of them would end this.

"Well, then, Shadowcat." She turned to her friend. "I believe we had lunch plans."

* * *

Logan frowned at the unfolding scene in the lunch room, not quite certain what was...off.

The usual little knots of students and staff had huddled around their favorite tables, and the usual mix of food odors wafted through the area. Jubilee sat at the center of her group, regaling them with some crazy story, no doubt, while gesturing enthusiastically and nearly knocking Piotr in the face. Kitty had her nose stuck in a science book at a sparsely populated table. Rogue...

Rogue.

Logan narrowed his eyes. Rogue wasn't with Bobby and his friends. He studied the line still getting food, but she wasn't there either. Where was—

He swung his surprised stare back to Kitty. There was Rogue, sitting beside her, head bent toward the same book, talking in an interested undertone and nodding every so often.

And there was Bobby, sitting alone.

He looked back and forth for a long moment, wondering what could have altered the balance of power between those three so radically. Their dynamic hadn't been exactly healthy ever since John left, but it had been heavily weighted against Rogue. But now...

He studied those two dark bent heads and watched Rogue arch one eyebrow while Kitty blushed.

Logan shook his head. He should've known that girl could fend for herself. And nobody knew just why he started smiling.

* * *

A/N: Well, slowly but surely, we're catching back up. Hope you liked the chapter! Please review. :grins:

**JHerr314** (Glad the start worked out well. A massive revision is both a headache and a nailbiter. :grins: And thanks again for the heads up on the site's punctuation line deletion. I'm not the only author that's going nuts over it, so that's good. But I've got _most_ of the dividers replaced, so that's good.), **AngelwithDirtyThoughts** (I'm so glad to see you over here. Glad you're enjoying so far. Hope the story continues to please. [I freak out over that. :sighs:] ), **ChamberlinofMusic** (I figured out of everybody, you might like the old version better, but it was just leaving too many pieces until later and it needed some tightening up and rebreathing for me to be happy with it. So I went to work. Glad you're enjoying it so far. Tell me if you ever have ideas to improve it!), **The-Black-Devil** (Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been doing piecemeal work while I recover from a month of being very not well.), **ColorCoated** (Thank you! Hope to keep you interested. Remy's side is going to be fully unveiled for a while yet.),

**CurrentlyIncognito** (I thought John's attitude made a bit of sense for a pyromaniac convict woken in the middle of the night and ordered to go back someplace he'd _never_ want to return to, but then discovers his powers will come back and it's an opportunity for freedom. But I'll try to keep him in character. A lot of his parts are already written for the next few chapters, so we'll see. Let me know if something rubs you as really off. I feel for Ororo, but she'll do fine. Promise not so many characters in this one. Sorry I had to dump so many into _Without a Trace_, but I finally have them all labeled, categorized, and well-introduced in that one [and they are all canon characters], so maybe in the distant future, you'll like that fic again. But this one is simpler. Promise.), **Chellerbelle** (I'm glad you're enjoying it! I'll try to keep everybody happy. _Fight and Shadow_ was never my most popular story, but that was largely due to the fact that it was my first and I was still finding my stride again with writing. Now that I've mostly settled in, it was time to give this baby a better go.)


	3. The Queen's Game

**BOOK ONE : : FURY**

* * *

_Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,__  
__Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd__.  
~ William Congrave, The Mourning Bride ~_

* * *

**Chapter Three : : The Queen's Game**

* * *

"Turn it on."

"Marie…"

"Rogue," his girlfriend snapped back from across the room on his bed.

"Fine! There! You happy?"

Rogue leaned forward and frowned intently as she stared for nearly a full minute. "Now, turn it off."

"Rogue. You can't just go around asking people to—"

"Stop it!" she hissed out, and he did. Rogue's eyes had sparkled into a green flame that looked ready to consume him.

They stared at each other, one in hurt and confusion, the other in anger.

"Just turn it off, Bobby."

The temperature went up in the room a several degrees, and Bobby shook the hoarfrost off of him. He was sitting on his desk and watching Rogue warily.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She seemed amused by the question, the faintest hint of a smile lifting her mouth. "Perfectly."

Somehow that was the least reassuring thing she could have said.

"Oh, Bobby. Stop worrying about me." Rogue rose from the bed and trailed over to him with a slow walk that made him burn. "You're not earning brownie points, you know."

Brownie points? He was having a hard time understanding her, when she stepped up close and drew one bare finger sharply across his jaw and smiled up at him with that strange new look in her eyes.

"Stop," she asked softly.

"Stop what?" He was pretty sure the room got colder.

She raised her eyebrows. "Worrying."

He stared at her. "Can I?"

"You should," she returned firmly.

"Uh…I'm not sure I control it that well." He finally snapped to it and figured out what she was talking about. "It's an emotion, you know? 'Cause I _care_."

Rogue sighed. "All right, Bobby. I'll see you around."

And she slipped out of the room. Elusive. Independent. _Alone_.

* * *

Tante Mattie Baptiste tightened her lips into a thin line but said nothing with her mouth. Her dark, reproachful eyes followed Remy into the house—_his_ family's house, and she reached with wide open arms he recognized all too well to take in the limp, exhausted form of the girl he carried.

Sarah flinched back hard.

"It's okay, petite," he whispered. "This be Tante Mattie." The woman who raised him.

Quiet Thieves gathered in the entry behind him until Sarah allowed herself to be embraced by the dark-skinned, motherly soul that had raised half of all Thief and Assassin children.

"Come here, child. Let's get you warm."

Sarah leaned on Tante Mattie's shoulder as they walked toward the guest wing of the house, craning her head to see Remy standing behind her, watching her, but not following.

Those piercing blue eyes. It had to be her.

A heavy hand settled on Remy's shoulder, and he tensed, glanced at his brother, Henri, standing beside him. "Père wants to talk to you."

Remy gave Henri a measuring look until he flushed to the top of his bald pate.

"You're under safe passage, frère," Henri said. "Let the bad blood lie."

Remy snorted. Harsh bitterness colored his words. "You and I both know the only reason I'm here is 'cause Jean-Luc bartered for whatever information Sarah has."

Henri hesitated in the ensuing silence in the hall. "You mean more than that."

Remy banked his smoldering anger under the thin veneer of professionalism he had mastered as a Thief, but he looked at his brother coldly. "I'll see him."

Henri shook his head, but said nothing as he led the way to their Patriarch's office.

* * *

Dr. Moira McTaggert was all Storm had expected of her.

And then some.

The doctor was an old acquaintance of Professor Xavier's and had been publishing in medical journals about mutant ethics and the use of telepathy in medicine to stirring debate. However, the Professor had left her name among his most trusted contacts, so when she contacted Storm, statedly about a matter of some delicacy, Storm had accepted the call.

"I think I have someone of interest to you," the doctor had begun.

"Yes," Storm answered cautiously.

_Hello, Ororo._

She very nearly dropped the phone.

That was almost a week ago, and now, Dr. McTaggert was here, in the flesh. Storm smiled at her as they greeted each other.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you."

Moira smiled. She had aged well for being so close in age to Professor Xavier. Her hair was still red, her voice still full of life and good humor; in fact, she seemed a woman closer to middle age than older.

"It's good of you to come out and help us like this."

"Oh, I remember Hank quite well," Moira replied. "He was always so intelligent. I imagine he's finding it hard to split his time."

"Indeed," Storm agreed.

* * *

Shadowcat crouched within a bed in the medical bay. Every so often, she would poke her face out slightly to see Hank McCoy moving his furry, blue form around the area. She sighed internally. Why Rogue didn't just come out and _ask_ for the records was beyond her. But anything for a friend, right?

"_You know, you could just ask him," Shadowcat told her in exasperation._

_Rogue was back in full force, and somehow her bare arms only made her look more dangerous. "I waited _three years_ for the Professor to help me," she snapped. "And now what? He's dead."_

_Shadowcat flinched at the raw statement._

"_I'm tired of waiting on someone else. You said to fight. To _find out how."

So here she was.

Now, if only Hank would stop humming and get out of the medical bay!

* * *

Storm showed Moira into the medical lab. "Thank you again for taking over for Hank while he's covering the White House."

Moira shook her head. "Really, it's no trouble." She looked around, surprised at how little everything had changed. "I can manage to rotate schedules with him for a while. My daughter,"—Storm turned back to her in interest—"she's been complaining that my constant presence hampers her creativity."

Both women laughed at that.

"Teenagers," Moira added ruefully.

A flash of brown caught the corner of her eye and she turned sharply toward the back wall behind some equipment. Was that a...ponytail?

"So Hank will be leaving for Washington in the morning," Storm carried on, apparently having seen nothing. "I asked him to clear you out a few filing cabinets and bring in this old desk..."

Moira listened with one ear and, with the rest of her attention, considered what she had seen.

* * *

Logan cursed at the fifth ring of the doorbell. "Is there nobody besides _me_ in this house?" he demanded of his frying eggs. He turned off the heat, pulled them off the burner, and headed to answer the stubborn visitor.

He yanked open the door and demanded, "What?"

An impeccably dressed blonde woman in a white business suit, carrying a small white briefcase, raised one perfect blonde eyebrow at his greeting. "Emma Frost," she said coolly. "Parole officer for St. John Allerdyce."

Logan ground his teeth and stepped aside for her to enter.

She stepped inside as coolly as she had spoken and motioned the sullen young man behind her to follow. "Is Miss Munroe in?" Frost asked politely.

"I'll go get her." Logan gave Pyro a warning look, then headed into the mansion. As he passed the rec room, he jerked a thumb at Piotr. "Go keep an eye on him 'til Storm gets there."

* * *

Pyro arrived around second period. He squinted at the clock in the entryway as his "probation officer" exchanged meaningless pleasantries with Storm. If anything convinced him that his lawyer was hired by Magneto, it was the fact that she morphed so easily into another role and the X-Men didn't recognize _her_.

He looked up at a small gasp from the hallway—and froze.

His Kitten had grown up. She was stunning. Dark, loose curls tumbled over her shoulders, framing skin like porcelain. Somehow, her slender petiteness had matured and become more feminine and _curved_ beneath her small blue shirt and snug jeans. She clutched some file folders to her chest and stared at him with wide brown eyes.

He caught himself back. She was an X-Man, see-the-good-in-everyone Katherine Pryde, a clawless kitten. He hardened his face and sneered. "Sprite."

Her own face transformed into something significantly fiercer. She stepped forward. He almost stepped back, but managed to hold still and smirk at her. She stood on tiptoes and slapped him hard on his right cheek. He was startled and did step back, but she swung back again for the other side. He grabbed for her wrist and it fell through him. She slapped him again.

She bit out in tightly controlled fury, "The name is _Shadowcat."_

Then, she phased right through him and through the wall.

He stared, slack-jawed, after her.

* * *

_She'd slipped into his life unbidden, this tiny slip of a girl, eventually claiming his heart. He was never a good boyfriend or anything, and no one knew about their quasi-friendship, except for Bobby and Rogue._

_It had started at the trees and always ended up there again._

_She curled up in the juncture of three branches in her tree, a nook designed for someone so small. He usually sprawled on his back on the other tree's largest branch. They chatted, fought, played pranks. Often. He hated it when she phased him._

_"Why do you call yourself Sprite?" he demanded one day, interrupting her favorite novel. "It's a baby's name."_

_"Is not!" she protested hotly._

_"Is too."_

_She dropped the book unceremoniously from the tree and lunged across the gap._

_He swore and made to move, but was too late. She landed in him and scared a few choice expletives out of him._

_Kitty giggled, then surprised him by staying in his arms, warm and solid and real._

_John breathed softly on her neck then slipped his arms around her tightly and pulled her up until they were eye to eye and mouth to mouth, mere centimeters apart. She stared at him with wide eyes._

_"Shadowcat," he whispered._

_Then he kissed her, tasting the sweetness of the apple she ate for lunch, the slight cherry tang of her lip gloss, and the soft, warmth that was all her own. She pulled away a minute later, gasping for air. She scrambled back on the branch._

_He merely smirked and leaned back on one arm, flicking his lighter with the other hand. "Now, that's a good codename."_

* * *

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Emma Frost snapped at him.

"Get off, Frost," he snapped back.

Storm glanced back and forth between the two. "Perhaps…"

"You're supposed to behave," Emma replied dangerously, crossing her arms. "Or you'll end up back at your own prison cell, _cured_."

"I wouldn't do that," Pyro said softly.

She startled at that and looked at him. Something dangerous, slightly feral gleamed in his eye. She narrowed her icy blue eyes at him.

"You're a rook, Pyro," she said. "But the _queens_ rule the board."

"Perhaps, I should show you your rooms?" Storm finally managed to regain their attention. They looked at her, began to follow.

Pyro glanced uncertainly toward the wall Kitty had disappeared through. Why had she called herself by _his_ name for her? It was a threat, a punishment, _a warning_.

_The queens rule the board._

* * *

When Bobby entered the library, it took him a few minutes scouting to find who he was looking for. Rogue and Kitty were in the back corner of the library at a round table, heads together, whispering and pointing at the papers in their hands. Every so often, Kitty would suddenly sit up and gesture excitedly with her hands.

Bobby steeled himself and approached. It was so much easier to talk to just one of them, but finding Rogue alone today had been increasingly difficult.

He knocked on the table and both girls looked up.

"Hey."

"Hey," Rogue answered, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear.

Kitty retreated to bending over the papers studiously.

He suddenly felt nervous. "Maybe you'd like to go to that play that's we saw? You know the one about the princess." He tried to read Rogue's eyes, but that had been getting harder and harder to do.

Rogue glanced at Kitty, held the look for a significant moment, then turned back to Bobby. "I don't think so."

He sat down then. He knew exactly what she meant in that glance, what she was saying. "We're over?" He was surprised at the amount of panic that knowledge could engender in him. "I'm sorry, Rogue. I never meant to hurt anyone." Bobby had never been known to plead, but Rogue was different. She always had been.

She sighed and looked at him without malice. "We all make mistakes, Bobby."

He felt the glimmerings of hope. She leaned forward and touched his arm—not his skin.

"But find a girl you can touch."

His mouth opened, but then he shut it sharply and looked at Kitty. She was phased. A clear meaning in the gesture.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever." He hid the pain behind simple words and made almost blindly for the library door. Forgiveness perhaps, but with nothing left.

* * *

Rogue stared after Bobby's exit until he'd disappeared. Then she looked at her friend. Shadowcat had never once looked up.

* * *

She was waiting for him. When Pyro entered the darkened room, he froze, as if sensing her. He flicked on a light.

"Kitty!" He swore. "You scared the mess out of me!"

Shadowcat sat Indian-style on his bed. A dark blue tank top hung loosely on her petite frame. She studied him while swinging a lighter in her left hand.

Pyro's dark eyes fell on the lighter.

Back and forth. Back and forth. In some sort of hypnotic pendulum action, Shadowcat had captured his interest, even as she tried to read him.

His face was like a stone, hard and often blank or sneering. He was different, leaner, harder, more dangerous. But his eyes, those were like a flickering flame, dark and frightening in their feral quality. He was hardly interested in soft sweet words or poetry anymore, she would guess. His eyes were those of a lost soul, lost to the sweetness of battle and war. Lost to shadow.

She suddenly gripped the Zippo lighter tightly in her fist. His gaze met hers. Slowly, she phased it through her hand and it fell onto his bed.

His eyes stayed on hers. He didn't watch it fall.

But she couldn't read them. They were dark, impenetrable. She hated his new eyes because they took him away from her and he wasn't John anymore. He was Pyro.

She was Shadowcat.

"You forgot this," she said.

A flame lit in his eyes. His jaw muscles shifted and she could see clearly that he was angry. He hadn't forgotten and they both knew it. He had _left_ it.

For her.

Was she really this pathetic? She forced herself to her feet and began to phase through him on her way out the door, when he grabbed her forcefully by the shoulder at the right moment to phase with her.

She stared at him, cocked a questioning brow.

"Kitty," he started.

"Shadowcat," she spat back, knowing full well she was testing his anger.

His hand reached up to her face and she fought the swell of emotion that responded to his action. He hushed her. "That was John's lighter," he whispered close to her mouth. Mere centimeters away.

She backed up. Unphasing him and phasing herself.

"Then _John_ better come back and claim it," she retorted and slipped out of the room.

* * *

_She made him feel weak. Katherine "Kitty" Pryde, girl-next-door brainiac that should have been shy and wasn't, was the first person to make fire look like a paltry plaything._

_It was St. John and Kitty's first round in the Danger Room ever, and she was winning._

_He hated the feeling blossoming inside him, even if her eyes were kind. Or maybe that is what he hated most._

_She stood, one hand in his gut, her whole body in the middle of his living flames. He could bend the fire to his will, but he could not make it burn her._

* * *

A/N: So hope y'all like this. It should've been done ages ago, but it wasn't. Many regrets. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, read, alerted, or favorited this story. Y'all keep me going.

**Time and Fate** (Sorry the update was not soon, but I'm glad you liked it!), **FireFox ShadowWolf** (Thank you!), **Jessica** (I understand how you feel about Emma. What can I say? Somebody's got to play the villain. I'm looking forward to getting Remy in here too. A little more to go though.), **justalittle l o o n y** (Thank you! I love both of these pairings. And I do try to keep everyone in character. I admit, I do not like OOC at all.), **The-Black-Devil** (More is here! Sorry to keep you waiting.), **Indecisively Yours** (I'm glad you're enjoying the re-write. I plotted all the joy out of version one and had to reboot just to want to keep going, and I _did_ want to keep going. Thus, reborn. And better written, if I do say so myself. I love messing with these pairings and bringing them together, but yeah, the biggest bit was dealing with the Bobby situation, figuring out _how_ a best friend who wasn't just an unfeeling jerk could do that to someone, and then how could they get over it. This is probably one of my most friendshipcentric fics.),

**CurrentlyIncognito** (I'm so glad you're enjoying the Logan. He is one of my favorite characters. In fact, before I dug back into fandom, he was my number one favorite with Rogue as a close second. And more updates coming soon. Promise.), **AngelwithDirtyThoughts** (Emma is a fun one. Yeah, she's a villianous, cold-hearted, mean-spirited manipulator, but she's fun nonetheless, and I got big plans for her in this story. I just hope I don't run this baby too close toward epic. Ah, well. Kitty always struck me as a blanket hog. I don't know: something about that tiny body and big confidence just made me think it fit. Lots of plot-hopping to come on all of them. And Marrow, you'll have to wait to get many answers there. :grins: ) **Chellerbelle** (Wrapping up that mess between Rogue and Kitty and Bobby was tough, but it was one of the first things I hit when I returned to fandom. I just _had_ to bring something good out of the mess. And believe me, this is a fic big on power control. It's my scientific mind gone crazy on how mutations _really_ work. Thanks for enjoying and reviewing! Hope I live up to all your expectations.)


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